


Fear of Commitment (To Sparkle Motion)

by yamyamyam



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, Although those also appear in the story, And by that I mean he isn't a frat bro, Awesome Clint Barton, But can I keep him he followed me home, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Fake Marriage, Glitter, Human Disaster Clint Barton, In case you were getting worried, M/M, Purple sparkles, Unimpressed glitter demons, and fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamyamyam/pseuds/yamyamyam
Summary: Clint is in his final year of college, probably, and is just trying to earn some spare cash by doing magic tricks for the frat bros. Fake magic tricks. Magic isn't a real thing. Why do I even have to say that, fic summary? Clint's magic tricks do not usually end with the cards suspended in mid-air surrounded by a cloud of purple sparkles, though. Uh. Clint will be right back. Step step step step step step SLAM.Bucky is a chem professor and oh yeah, super competent witch, because magic is totally a real thing. He is just trying to get some grading done when his witchy alarm bells start ringing. Aw damnit. He needs to find the source of the uncontrolled magic, fast, or his tenure application will be derailed by the swift appearance of way more of his extended family than anyone should ever have to meet.Good news: Bucky finds the source of magic easily!Better news: The source of the magic is a really hot guy.Bad news: ...who has accidentally summoned a purple sparkly demon bent on destroying reality. UH.Can Bucky save the day? Yes. Yes he can.Can Bucky save the day without winding up accidentally married to Clint Barton?  Uh... oops?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 38
Kudos: 121
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	Fear of Commitment (To Sparkle Motion)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Winterhawk Big Bang 2020!
> 
> words by yamyamyam  
> art by Mado

It's kind of funny, if you know Clint well, to see him working on the 11th year of a four-year degree. Clint, the circus rat who never went to middle school, let alone highschool, who hadn't been inside a classroom since the age of seven. Until at 22 years old with a fairly dodgy GED in hand, he was admitted to a not-ivy-league but still pretty smug college, which, hungry to make any kind of sports name for itself, offered a full-ride archery scholarship. 

There aren't any 11-year athletic scholarships, but it turns out if you switch sports there's no rule against getting consecutive different athletic scholarships, as long as you're still an undergrad. So after four years of archery, Clint made varsity gymnastics. And after four years of that, well, archery biceps are pretty sweet at rowing crew. He's had to change majors 5 times to keep from being unavoidably graduated, but he's nothing if not creative when it comes to keeping balls in the air to keep the grocery bill paid. 

Sometimes literally, as now, when he's juggling empties to entertain his frat bro roommates. Clint's not actually in the frat, but the Delta Iota boys had a few spare rooms in their leaky house that no brothers wanted to stay in OR organize the repair of, so he gets cheap, cheap rent—including board, because it turns out rich frat boys can hire a cook to facilitate their uninterrupted pursuit of drinking—and that leaves him with enough wiggle room to save just over half of the non-tuition part of his scholarship money. Which is important, because he's running out of majors and sooner or later he's going to have to figure out what to do next. 

"What are you gonna do next?" asks one pleasantly vague brother, applauding crookedly as Clint catches the 9 bottles and takes a bow.

"Well, I know a few card tricks," Clint says modestly, belied somewhat by the smug grin that appears as he pulls a deck of cards from behind couch-bro's ear.

"Of course, it's kind of boring with nothing riding on it, you know?" He sighs and starts to tuck the cards into his back pocket. 

Clint has been living here long enough that the frat bros know this is their cue, and they're drunk enough that they're not tired of losing money to him. "Riding on what!" exclaims one of the frat bros lying on the carpet. It's not really a question, he's already holding out a twenty. Man it must be nice.

"I'm glad you asked, friend!" Clint can't help put pour on the patter; you can take the boy out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of the boy. "It just so happens that I am a psychic." Giggles from the couch. Somehow the enormous pink-faced Chads get kind of adorable when they're drunk, or maybe Clint's appreciation of their pocket money colours his opinion somewhat. "It's true! Here, open this brand-new deck of cards, still got the plastic on it, flip through the deck, pick a card, and show Petey but not me what it is. Then give the deck to Petey to hold."

"Wait... not to you?" Couchbro is halfway through unwrapping the deck when he stumbles on this development.

"Gosh, what if I cheated somehow? Nope, give it to Petey to keep it out of my mitts." 

Couchbro thinks this over. "Petey, are you in on this with Clint?" 

Petey rolls his eyes. "Of course not! Here, I'll put twenty down Clint can't guess it too."

Clint stifles a smile. That shit always works.

"Okay, you both know the card? Petey, you've got the cards safe and sound, I haven't touched them?"

"Yes, Clint." Pete waves his hand with the deck firmly clenched in it to demonstrate.

"Well then! There's no way I could know that this—" Clint brandishes a playing card from nowhere in particular "—is your card!"

Usually at this point there's delighted laughter and dumbfounded expressions at how Clint could guess the card, let alone make it appear out of nowhere.

Usually at this point, Clint is only holding one card. 

Usually there aren't 52 identical ace of spades cards floating mid-air with purple sparkles twinkling around them.

Clint stops mid-patter, stunned.

"Holy shit!" Couchbro and Petey manage in unison, handing their twenties over to a slightly dazed Clint. "How'd you DO that, man?" asks Couchbro.

"Uh," explains Clint. He recovers quickly, tucks the forty bucks into his wallet. "Well a magician never tells his secrets!" he says, and tries desperately to sweep the sparkly purple cloud of cards back down into his hand.

The cards stay put, in mid-air, starting to hum in a vaguely ominous way.

Couchbro looks at Petey. "Another drink?" Petey crosses his eyes a bit at the purple cloud, then nods. "Yeah, let's... let's go check on the keg."

Clint waves a bit helplessly as they wander off to the land where this is someone else's problem, then looks back at the cards, still floating, if floating is the right word when they resist being moved like they were epoxied in place to the air somehow. He tries tugging on one and gets a small electric shock for his trouble. The humming increases in pitch. He can hear a dog howling back at it from down the street.

This is really, definitely, not how this trick usually goes. Clint decides that Petey and Couchbro have the right idea and leaves the room, leaves the house, starts trotting down the street, gulping in big breaths of cold night air to settle himself. Shit, maybe he had more to drink than he thought? He only remembers one beer, but... it's a frat house, someone could have accidentally roofied him for all he knows, because he is definitely just imagining that... 

That...

That there's a purple sparkly cloud chasing him down Greek Row, leaving a trail of Aces of Spades behind it.

Well, fuck.

=====

Bucky's spent most of his adult life avoiding eye-contact with his magic. He's a chemistry professor, for god's sake, which is about as much of a "Screw you, alchemy" as you can get, career-wise. His family is disappointed in him, but more or less resigned to it at this point, and honestly, once Becca had come into her power in a serious way when she hit thirty, most of the pressure had dropped. The family legacy was assured and one embarrassingly science-loving eldest son wasn't going to upset the applecart.

So it takes him a minute, sipping coffee to pump himself up for a night of grading lab reports, to identify the source of the unease he feels tonight. The tingling feeling. The sense of directionality. The... 

The magic. Fuck.

It's been years. It's been a freaking decade. But oh, it turns out it's like riding a bicycle, because by the time his conscious mind has come to that conclusion, his body has already logged out of the grade entry portal, shrugged into a jacket, and started to lock up his office. Because if he doesn't make the magic his problem, pronto, he's about to have a _lot_ of family in his face. And he loves his family, especially from a safe distance, but a posse of witches hounding his classes is not going to do his tenure application any favours.

Once out in the crisp evening, the feeling sharpens, and he can feel it tugging him, towards... the frat houses? Frat row on a Friday night, that should be a smell adventure to remember. Bucky sighs. Maybe it's just pixies. That would be nice. Pixies are single-minded but coaxable. 

He rounds the corner and takes in the scene before him, a purple cloud of sparkling power swirling around...

Yeah, that's not a pixie.

That is a student. A very built, very handsome, very panicking student. Bucky closes his eyes and counts to 7, realistic enough to know 10 would be pushing the limits of his patience on a night like tonight, sighs, then opens them and snaps off a good-sized branchlet from an ash tree as he walks towards the man entangled in glitter. 

=====

Clint may be off the gymnastics team since he switched to crew, but he's still flexible. Very flexible. Very, very flexible. So he's actually pretty alarmed that the purple glowing cloud has managed to get him into a position he can't wiggle out of.

Also it's a purple glowing cloud, and that's like, also pretty alarming? Probably? 

He's upside-down when Hot Guy appears and beats up the cloud with a stick. 

"Thanks upside-down hot guy!" Clint manages as the cloud spits him out... sullenly? Can a cloud be sullen? and he turns his collapse into a neat forward handspring, finishing in a triumphant V automatically before flushing and tucking his hands into his pockets. Whoah there, Amazing Hawkeye, not the moment. This is the moment to scramble out of trouble, not show off. And maybe get Hot Stick Guy's number? Because damn, that is one hot... hot...

That is one hot guy talking to a purple cloud, only the cloud has gotten over its sullenness and is now a fucking purple demon, like, forked tail and everything, and Clint very much, extra for sure, definitely drank something drugged, because this is not fucking possible.

"Excuse you, I'm extremely possible," spits out the demon in Clint's direction, which... okay.

Hot Stick Guy takes advantage of the break in the cloud/demon's attention and uses his stick to get the cloud into a headlock, and Clint is really, really unhappy that he's having a night where that sentence isn't complete nonsense. Cloud Guy definitely does NOT like the stick; there's smoke hissing up from his neck where it's touching him, and despite being basically made of smoke, this appears to be distressing to him. It. Uh.

"He called me, witch. You have no right to stand between us," hisses Cloud Guy.

Hot Stick Guy Witch, Apparently, raises an eyebrow and flicks his eyes over to Clint. "That true, son?"

Son? Aw hot stick guy, no. Clint knows he doesn't _look_ older than the average undergrad, sure, but like... he is totally in his thirties for hot guy purposes... no, no, focus Barton. "What?" Barton. Foc. us. "I didn't... what? How would I call him? It? Them? Buddy, what are your pronouns?" 

"I am older than your language, you insignificant pond scum, and its pronouns will wither away aeons before my existence is quenched."

Christ, he... they... couldn't just say "no preference?" Cloud demons are super dramatic, apparently. "I'll go with... they? If you change your mind let me know?"

Flames wash over the face of Cloud Them, interrupted by Hot Stick Guy whistling sharply to to get this trainwreck of a conversation back on track. "He says he didn't call you, omen."

"Please. I'm covered in his spoor. I hate purple. I hate your pathetic race. I hate this entire miserable dimension. You cannot seriously be suggesting I'm here for pleasure."

Stick Guy stands back, considering. Cloud Them steps back too and shakes out a shirt they aren't wearing to regain their composure. They glare at Clint. "Stop that. I can hear you pronouning at me. He, if you must."

Uh. Cloud Guy can apparently hear Clint's thoughts. That's... that's not great.

"You're telling me," mutters Cloud Guy. 

Hot Stick Guy is tapping his stick against his thigh, frowning as he looks back and forth between them. "You're covered in his magic, yes, but there's no binding. There's no circle. There's no salt. What did he call you here to do?"

Cloud Guy smiles, and it's horrible, you can see through his head to the other side. "Nothing. I have no constraints. I thought maybe I'd start by drinking his soul and fingerpainting in his blood, for making me wear purple glitter. Then—"

Hot Stick Guy is apparently unimpressed with this to-do list and he's back in action, and presently Cloud Guy is back in a headlock, burny stick burninating his throat again.

"What do you think you're doing, witchling! You can see I'm his doing. You have no power over me."

"Well, he's got that stick," puts in Clint.

Cloud Guy narrows his eyes at Clint. Well, his... eye... hole... place... oh god, Clint is never going to sleep through the night again. Clint, belatedly, shuts up.

"And he will pay for what he's doing, mark my words. Or don't; you won't have to worry about anything for much longer." He mutters something that might be "purple" in a low angry tone.

Hot Stick Guy sighs heavily and Clint gets ready to boot it, because Hot Stick Guy was really the only thing Clint had going for him in this thoroughly fucked up little evening vignette. But instead of letting the Cloud go to uh, eat Clint's soul and blood and so forth, he draws a circle of sparks in the air with his stick, and his eyes begin to glow. 

This should be ominous. Clint should be wetting his pants and honestly is a little surprised he hasn't already once the cloud started talking. But instead it's kind of... soothing. Hot Stick Guy begins to speak, and it's not the sexy, slightly harassed rasp from earlier, it's an echoing, booming voice that draws on the power of the earth, the light of the moon, the fecundity of the freshman dorm, and has Clint simultaneously bewildered, comforted, and rather turned on. He mentally upgrades him to Super Hot Stick Guy. Super Hot Stick Guy isn't just talking, he's intoning. He's chanting. He is laying down tracks with authority. He is... Clint should probably be paying attention to what he's saying, shouldn't he.

"...UNDER MY PROTECTION. I BANISH THEE, AELFIN'S GET, FOR THE SPACE OF A HUNDRED YEARS AND A DAY."

Cloud Guy looks a little spooked, but fails to uh, be banished. Somewhat tremulously, he says "Fancy talk, witchkin. But you can't just adopt some random magic fuck-up on a whim. That spell only works if—"

"HE IS MY HUSBAND. HE IS MY HUSBAND. HE IS MY HUSBAND. I HAVE CLAIMED HIM THRICE BEFORE GOD AND MAN AND I SEAL MY VOW WITH THE BREAKING OF THE MOUNTAIN ASH." He snaps his stick in half—shit, is that good or bad?—and the glow fades from his eyes and he seems to shrink a bit. "So fuck off, Cloud Guy," finishes Super Hot Stick Guy, back to his normal voice.

Wait, Cloud Guy? Shit, can Super Hot Stick Guy hear Clint's thoughts too?

Cloud Guy meanwhile has started to vibrate. No, to rattle. No, to... 

Cloud Guy is gone, suddenly, and there's a loud smack as air rushes in to fill the nothingness where Cloud Guy abruptly isn't.

There's a long, pregnant pause, and then the world seems to start up again. Shitty dance mix music from two competing parties drifts over to them and traffic noises resume. People start walking past them, idly strolling, apparently not having noticed the fucked up 70s music video that Clint just lived through.

"So. I'm Super Hot Stick Guy, am I?" Super Hot Stick Guy asks, a wry smile on his face.

Oh god, he CAN read Clint's thoughts. Clint groans.

Super Hot Stick Guy smirks at this, then looks dizzy for a moment, pitches forward, and passes out leaning against Clint's chest.

Well.

Well that just happened.

=====

Bucky wakes up on a single bed under a very purple quilt, and scrubs a hand through his hair, trying to remember how he got there. He sits up and regrets it immediately, clutching his suddenly aching temples. Oh. Magic hangover. God he hasn't missed this. Magic hang... the Aelfin. Shit, where is that—

The door opens and the student from earlier slips into the room, hurriedly shutting the door behind him and rushing over when he sees that Bucky is awake. 

"Oh thank god, you're not dead! Here, um, I made... hot cocoa? In case you weren't. Dead. I mean it's not going to kill you! It's good cocoa! That you can't drink if you're dead. Obviously."

Bucky weathers this verbal storm in a bit of a daze and accepts the mug being thrust at him, blinking at the small armada of rainbow-coloured marshmallows floating on top of the hot chocolate. One actually looks like a rainbow. He sips it dubiously and almost instantly feels better. He sits up straighter and unfocuses his eyes a bit, looking at the drink more closely. Ah, a restorative draught. A much nicer-tasting one than anything Bucky's endless parade of aunts had ever given him for childhood ailments. Those had all been like, newt-flavoured. Score one for... "What's um, what's your name?"

"Oh! God, sorry. I just... Clint. I'm Clint."

"Clint. Nice to meet you, Clint. I'm Bucky."

Clint flushes suddenly and stares down into his drink. What? What was... Oh. Bucky grins. "Or Super Hot Stick Guy is fine too."

"Never gonna live that down, am I."

"Probably not, no."

Clint sighs.

Bucky sips a little more of the draught. God this stuff is nice. Why the hell didn't more potions come in chocolate? "So, not to be unappreciative of the hospitality, but where are we?"

"Uh, still on campus. This is my room. I uh... you kind of... fell on me? After you... with the Cloud Guy... and I wasn't sure what to do?"

Bucky pats the bedspread beside him. "Well, good choice. I appreciate not waking up on the road with dicks drawn on my face or something." 

Clint snorts, then gets an anxious, earnest look on his face. "Listen, about that... I don't... I mean... Thank you? I'm not really clear on what the hell happened, but um. Thank you. Yeah. I was... not real sure what to do about... all of that. At all." 

Bucky sets the choco-draught on the bedside table and laces and unlaces his fingers a few times, gathering his thoughts. "So you really didn't summon the Aelfin?"

"The... no? Also... no?"

"The Aelfin. Cloud Guy."

"Definite nope."

"Okay, so, what were you trying to do?"

"A... card trick?"

Bucky looks at him flatly. "A card trick."

Clint reaches over and pulls a quarter out of Bucky's ear. "A card trick. Yeah. Although it doesn't usually... okay, ever... end like that."

Bucky frowns. "You were using interdimensional portal magic for a card trick? Seriously?"

Clint blinks. "I was using a deck of cards for a card trick. Interdimension what?"

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Interdimensional portal magic? The glittery purple stuff? The actual demon appearing on Greek Row?"

Clint wilts a bit. "I am super, super lost. I... honestly I'm a bit surprised that you could see all that stuff too. I thought I was drugged maybe."

Bucky's other eyebrow rises too. "So you... Clint, are you a witch at all?"

"Is that like, code for something?" 

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and reaches over for the chocolate draught and drains the cup. Wait...

"You just served me a healing potion after watching me banish an Aelfin demon and you really want to play like you don't know what a witch is?"

Clint looks miserable. "I know what a witch is! Like, hallowe'en stuff, right? But I don't... Bucky that's not... real?"

"Is that a question?"

"I'm still kind of catching up to the part where you could also see the purple talking cloud guy, honestly. I'm really hoping I wake up to an apology note from one of the frat bros saying they put the LSD in the wrong cup."

"The... oh my god."

"Or mushrooms maybe? I don't know what all the party bros are in to, that's not my scene, but I mean obviously somethin—"

"Clint, did you make this hot chocolate?"

"What? Yes. Don't worry, it definitely doesn't have LSD in it, I—"

"It's great, it's fine. More than fine. It's... Clint, honey, you're a witch. You made a magic potion, a really nice one, and you made it with your magic."

"I mean the marshmallows are kind of my secret flair, but like, I just sorted out a box of Lucky Charms, they're not _actual_ leprechaun snacks. You know that, right?"

"Okay, let's just.. let's... um." Bucky runs out of steam for a moment. He gets not wanting to be magic. He grew up surrounded by it and couldn't get out of that life fast enough. But he'd always known it was real. How do you have the kind of power this guy has and not... notice?

"Okay, what would convince you that you're not having a drug trip right now?"

Clint considers this for a long moment. "I don't have a lot of experience with fucked up drug trips, to be honest. I grew up in the circus, that was weird enough without help. Uh. Is it like dreams? I hear you're supposed to not be able to read the same thing twice in dreams."

"Sure, sounds legit," says Bucky. "I ought to know, I'm apparently a hallucination."

Clint peers suspiciously at Bucky. "Hmm. Good point."

Bucky closes his eyes. "Oh god, forget I said that."

Clint rummages around on his desk and comes up with a tattered piece of paper. "Okay, let's try this. `Attendance at lectures is optional, however students will be responsible for all material presented in class. The required textbook is Fladmark's Guide to Archaeological Field Procedures.' Well, so far, so boring. Round two! `Attendance at lectures is optional, however students will be responsible for all material presented in class. The required textbook is Fladmark's Guide to Archaeological Field Procedures.' Huh. Same both time. Right? That was the same?"

Bucky is hiding a smile behind his hand. "Not sure, I was distracted."

"Well you're no help."

"Sorry! Sorry. Just... I'm a professor. It kind of brings a tear to my eye to actually see a student reading a syllabus."

Clint rolls his eyes. "I'm in my eleventh year of undergrad. I eat syllabuses for breakfast. Syllabi?"

"They're both right. English is a living language."

"So you're an English professor?"

"Oh god no, chemistry."

"Nerd."

"Yes, thank you, proud nerd."

Clint grins, then his face falls. 

Bucky peers at him. "What? You've been in college for 11 years but you're anti-nerd?"

"No, no, just—this is kind of a mundane line of conversation for a drug trip."

Bucky heaves a sigh and slumps back on the bed. "As I've been trying to convey, I'm not actually a drug trip."

"I'm... kind of getting that."

"Yeah?"

"And moving on to the freaking out part." Clint slides down the wall to the floor, trembling. "What the fuck was that thing?"

"Oh, hey, hey, you're okay, pal." Bucky slips down on to the floor next to Clint, gathering him up with one arm, reaching for Clint's almost untouched mug of hot chocolate with the other. "There you go, have some of your... cocoa." Probably better not to mention the word potion again just right at the moment.

Clint obediently knocks back half the lukewarm cocoa and settles a bit, snuggling on to Bucky's lap. Bucky is a little surprised at this but tucks his arms around Clint automatically, charmed by how easily Clint calms down as he strokes his back. Ah. Charmed. Right.

"So that thing was... a traveller, I guess is the best description. From... not from around here. You called it here with magic."

"I... called it?"

"Fraid so, honey." 

Clint gives half a smile and brushes his cheek against Bucky's chest. Bucky is going to _melt_ pretty soon if this keeps up. "Oh sure, one hot chocolate and I'm your honey now? You're easy."

"Well, you are my husband," retorts Bucky.

Clint blinks. "I... that part was real too?"

Bucky winces. "Yeahhhhhh that part is kind of why you're not dead."

Clint shakes his head out. "Well uh. Thanks for that? "

Bucky looks apologetic. "About that..."

Clint squinches his eyes shut, hard. "Oh god, and you can read my mind."

"What? No, that was... you were projecting. Because we were in a field of your magic. I can't hear what you're thinking now."

"Oh. Oh thank god."

"But the ah, the married part? That's... uh. Still a thing."

"That's..."

"Yeah."

"So I'm Mr. Super Hot Stick Guy?"

Bucky waves feebly. "Mr. Barnes, actually. I mean, if you want to take my name. Usually witches take the matriarchal name, but we're both men, so..."

Clint takes this in, then gulps back the rest of his cocoa in one long swallow. 

"You're really, really not a drug trip?"

"Sorry."

"Do we um. Do we need to..." Clint gestures vaguely between them. "Consummate? Things?"

Bucky looks puzzled for a moment, then turns a deep red. "No! No, god, sorry, so. I would never... No, no, just, we have to... there's an unbinding ritual we'll need to... like witch divorce. But it's not... we don't have to do anything... physical. Just me claiming you as bound to me was enough to let me protect you." Oh god, it has definitely been at least twenty years since Bucky was this awkward in a romantic situation. Well, fifteen. Oh and there was... okay ten. Is this even a romantic situation? It's not like he got to ask permission before, well, marrying the guy. 

But Clint looks... disappointed? "Oh. Oh well."

"Oh well?"

"Well you're... you know."

"I'm what."

"You heard me call you Super Hot Stick Guy inside my head and thought "the stick is the important part of that name?""

"Wait, are you saying..."

Clint sets his mug down carefully and hops off Bucky's lap only to straddle it and lean in close to Bucky. "I have had a very, very long day. I have a lot of tension I'd like to... work out. I am very, very gay; very, very turned on; very, very interested in not thinking about the implications of magic being real; and very, very interested in finding out if that Super Hot Stick Guy boner you are sporting has anything to do with your new husband."

Bucky shoots his own crotch a startled look, and he shouldn't be surprised to find that, yes, his rock-hard cock is indeed very evident through his khakis, and yet... when did that happen? He looks up, dumbstruck, to find Clint looking hopefully into his eyes, and then turning away after a moment, looking crestfallen, and... oh, no, no, no, that is not acceptable at all.

"It does! It is! I am!" blurts out Bucky, losing track of his grammar in his rush to be seduced before it stops raining men. Besides the hangover, a magical working is also very... stimulating, and it would take a stronger man than Bucky to blueball it through this conversation with his virtue intact.

Clint looks back up at him. "Yeah?"

Bucky leans his forehead over to rest against Clint's. "Um. If that's... okay?"

Clint smiles big and pulls a condom out of Bucky's ear this time. 

=====

Clint's internal notepad app is full of all kinds of bullshit right now, starting with I'm Being Followed By The Ethereal Lovechild Of Lisa Frank And Bicycle Playing Cards, continuing on through Which Is Now An Actual Factual Demon Making Threats On My Life, detouring through Was I Drugged?! and Wait, I'm Married?! only to come to rest at You're A ~~Wizard, Harry~~ Witch, Clint and Clint is FULLY ON BOARD with finding new things to fill up the buffer with so he can stop thinking about... all of that. He can deal with all that shit later, or, ideally, never. And his new husband, Professor Hot Stick Gu—no, no, he said his name. Bucket. Bucky? Bucky! Barnes. _Professor_ Bucky Barnes. His new husband, Bucky, is blushing, hard, and already in his bedroom, so like, things are looking good on the distraction front.

Bucky certainly looks distracted. Clint giggles a bit and waves his hands in front of Bucky's eyes. "You okay in there? You're blushing mighty hard for someone who carries a condom in his ear."

Bucky blushes harder, oh my god, that shouldn't even be possible. "I wasn't carrying a condom in my ear! You—" 

Clint looks innocent.

"...are playing me like a fiddle, oh my god."

Clint's innocent look cracks a little.

Bucky deploys Stern Professor Face.

Clint's innocent look shatters and he busts up laughing. "In my defense, you are extremely adorable when you blush."

Bucky does not become noticeably less red at this. "Well in my defense, I, uh, I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"Seduce innocent undergrads in frat houses?"

"Innocent? Wait, this is a frat house?"

"Don't worry, I'm not actually a frat member."

"Oh well in that case, this is my normal Friday night."

Clint leers. "That so, professor?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You're an 11th year, right? Which makes you how old?"

"Uh, 33. Got a late start."

"Right. You're a year older than me. Just don't take any of my chemistry classes and I think we're good."

"What if I'm already taking one?"

"Oh sweetheart. If you were in one of my classes?" Bucky pins him with a look, then deliberately looks him up and down. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember."

Clint gulps. And starts to purr. He purrgulps. Is that a thing? Clint is very confused right now and definitely wearing too much clothing. 

"...All right, you got me, not a chemistry student. But I think you and me might—"

"If this is about to be a chemistry joke—"

Clint deflates. Aw, joke, no.

Bucky tucks a finger under Clint's chin and tips his face back up. "—then I'm really excited. Clint, I am a chemistry professor. I LIVE FOR BAD CHEMISTRY JOKES."

Clint snorts. "Like what?"

Bucky gets excited. "Oh, oh, okay, okay, what did the hot guy in my lap say when they asked him to join the fraternity?"

"You have a chemistry joke about ME?"

Bucky waves this off. "Yikes, someone's vain. I could totally have meant some other hot guy in my lap."

Clint pouts. Bucky boops his nose. Clint de-pouts. "Okay, so what did the hot guy in your lap say when they asked him to join the frat."

"SODIUM HYPOBROMITE!"

"..."

"Get it?"

"I do not get it."

"Okay now I know you're not taking any chemistry classes, wow."

"Yeah not so much."

"It's, uh, if you write it out, it's Na-Br-O. Nah, Bro."

"Oh. You... told it well?"

Bucky sighs. "Well, nobody's perfect."

"I liked how I was in the joke?"

"Thanks. Really."

"So...why aren't we naked yet?"

Bucky's eyes glaze over a bit and he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "I really have no idea."

Clint stands up, then picks Bucky up—dem arms aren't just good for rowing—and sets him on the bed. Bucky's eyes are pools of black at this development. Clint tugs his t-shirt over his head and steps out of his sweatpants, revealing his complete lack of underwear. What, it's laundry day. Or well, it should be laundry day. Clint has not actually done any laundry and tomorrow's underwear forecast is also not looking positive.

Bucky's mouth is working silently as he takes in Clint's new non-outfit, and eventually his brain catches up enough for him to mutter "fuck it" before he rips his own shirt off, the final few buttons taking one for the team, then tugs his undershirt, oh my god, he wears an undershirt, that's adorable, over his head, and reaches grabby hands up for Clint, who obligingly drops down over him on the bed, straddling Bucky's still-covered but nevertheless very appealing thighs. Magical chemistry professors apparently still make time for leg day, Clint's just saying. Bucky runs a reverent hand over Clint's chest, and Clint shivers. Bucky flashes a smug smile at this, only to gasp as he is interrupted in turn by Clint palming over the bulge at his crotch.

"You need a hand getting out of these?" Clint presses gently but firmly as he asks, and apparently squeezes the ability to form sentences out through Bucky's dick, because his reply is an inarticulate keening noise followed a little later by a wild nod. Clint grins and does a little sleight of hand on Bucky's belt, button, and zipper, shucking his khakis down to admire...

"Not one word," warns Bucky, breathily, as Clint looks at his hips, where peeking out over the top of his silky black boxers is a sassy little molecular diagram.

Clint manfully suppresses a LOT of words and hardly even giggles at all. Bucky huffs. "It's a caffeine molecule."

Clint's eyes widen. "See now, that just makes it sexy."

Bucky grimaces.

"No, no, seriously! Bucky," Clint says, leaning in close to whisper into a shared breath over Bucky's parted lips. "Bucky I really, really like coffee."

Bucky snorts, then chokes a little as Clint's mouth covers his, but recovers quickly, and Clint was maybe figuring he'd have to carry the team a bit here, because Bucky is GORGEOUS but seems like maybe dating hasn't been priority one in his life, while Clint... well, Clint had always made the time. To make time. Heh. 

But Bucky's kissing game is ON POINT and Clint is 100% here for being wrong about him, because HOT DAMN. Ten to twelve years later, when Clint's brain catches up, he realizes his hands have removed the boxers on autopilot, strong work hands, hands of the month award, because:

1\. This has uncovered the rest of the caffeine tattoo, and it's really nicely done, definitely not a drunken decision like probably 99% of the tattoos ever to visit this frat house. Clint does not dwell on this because also exposed is  
2\. Bucky's truly lovely cock, which is politely standing up and waving hello, which means that  
3\. They are finally both naked, and so

"Fuck me, where did the condom go?"

"Did you check your ear?" asks Bucky dryly, the effect somewhat spoiled by how he's panting and trembling as Clint's hand idly traces the length of his dick.

Clint grabs Bucky's dick more firmly and raises an eyebrow in warning. Bucky raises his hands in surrender, snickering, and Clint's free hand at last locates The Amazing Disappearing, Reappearing Condom, You Won't Believe Your Eyes! and gleefully brings the packet to his mouth to rip open with his teeth. 

"So do you prefe—" starts Bucky, changing to a strangled "GANNH!" as Clint has popped the condom against his lips, lined up Bucky's cock, and engulfed it down to the root in his mouth. He swallows around Bucky's cock for good measure—"Glargckk!" remarks Bucky—then gently withdraws, leaving the condom applied. He directs a smug look up at Bucky.

"Good..." pants Bucky "good trick."

Clint nods. "Grew up in the circus."

Bucky tilts his head. "Wait, actually?"

"Like that's in the top ten weirdest things about tonight."

Bucky shrugs. "Okay, fair. Tonight has just been... probably a lot more like my childhood than yours."

Clint sighs. "I'm sorry I brought it up, can we go back to me not thinking about magic because you are fucking me into the mattress?"

Bucky's eyes widen. "YES," he says, pressing his index finger into Clint's chest. "I am on board with your mission statement."

Clint has dug out a bottle of lube by the end of the word yes, and has two fingers deep inside himself by the end of the sentence, and Bucky's jaw is going to get rugburn if it drops any further as he takes this in. It takes him a good thirty seconds of staring at the lube dripping out on to the bedspread from around Clint's scissoring fingers before he has the wherewithal to reach out a hand and stop him, gently drawing Clint's fingers out. 

Clint _whines_ at the loss, but not for long because Bucky is possessed now with some confident wild wind, and he smoothly levers himself over Clint's body, one hand pressing both of Clint's above his head, hnnngh, and the other stroking between his cheeks, separating, oh, oh, and Bucky pauses here a moment to gaze at Clint's hole, lurid and glistening and gaping open a little between his spread fingers, then clenching shut as Clint blushes, actually blushes, at the intensity of Bucky's awed expression. Bucky...

Bucky _growls_.

Clint is in over his head, he realizes suddenly, and he _loves it_. "Stay," murmurs Bucky, pressing Clint's hands more firmly against the pillow before releasing them, not even looking to see if Clint will obey, but he does, oh god, he really, really wants to be—"

"Such a good boy," praises Bucky, both hands now pressed to Clint's ass, spreading him wide. Clint's knees are over Bucky's shoulders and he's not totally clear on when that even happened, but it's just as well, more room for Bucky to—

Bucky's leaning down and _tasting_ , opening, thrusting into Clint with his tongue, hands kneading at Clint's cheeks and then both index fingers slipping in alongside his tongue, stretching him, while his thumbs press HARD against his perineum. Clint gasps and jerks, suddenly overwhelmed with sensation, and he can feel Bucky's warm breath wash over the underside of his cock as he huffs out a fond laugh before continuing his ministrations.

Clint has massively, massively underestimated the raw sexual power of this dorky witchy science nerd, and Clint is HERE FOR IT.

His hole is drenched at this point, lube and saliva oozing out around Bucky's fingers, and his cock is drooling too now, has gone from sort of interested to rock hard to unbearably close to coming in no time flat.

"Bucky. Bucky. Bucky, I'm." Clint is not up for full sentences or even meaningful sentence fragments anymore, but Bucky gets the idea. He slips his tongue out and asks "Are you close to coming?" in a low, growly voice, and Clint, yes, VERY YES, Clint is close to coming. He manages a rough nod. 

Bucky slips his fingers out all at once and clamps a thumb and forefinger around the base of Clint's cock. "I want you to stop," he says firmly, and Clint, oh god, Clint is not sure he can... can... Clint fists his hands in the pillowcase, his hands that are still above his head because oh, Clint wants to be a good good boy for Bucky, wants... Clint nods, closing his eyes, knuckles white where he's gripping the pillow so, so hard, and says "I'll try. I'll try."

Bucky rubs his cheek against Clint's _cock_ , oh my god, he can't—and says "Good boy," and Clint shivers. "Good boy," repeats Bucky. "I want you to come around my cock and not before."

Clint is going to DIE.

Clint nods shyly—shyly! who even is Clint anymore?—eyes locked with Bucky's as his grin turns predatory. Bucky keeps his grip at the base of Clint's cock as his free hand traces down to Clint's quivering, dripping entrance, and tenderly spreads him open again, lines himself up, and oh, OH, slides in, so slowly, almost gracefully, and the look on his face is, god, _reverent_. 

When Bucky is fully seated inside Clint, he gently releases Clint's dick, which is, wow, kind of tingling now, and he leans over to whisper: "I'm going to fuck you now. You come whenever you need to, baby." 

Everything in Clint is telling him to snap back with "I wasn't asking permission," but sassy Clint has been overruled by whatever part of him is _still holding his hands above his head_ and he just _keens_ in reply as Bucky starts moving inside him. 

Clint was beyond ready to come, but feels stuck now in some super-saturated painting of desire, colours too intense, everything so much, so so much, when Bucky draws back enough for the head of his penis to run rough over Clint's prostate, and that's it, that's the final too much and Clint is EXPLODING, his world nothing but stars and light and sound and the physical part is almost an afterthought. Distantly he can feel his cock releasing in gushing pulses, can feel himself clench around Bucky, is aware of heat and movement as Bucky comes inside of him, but mostly he is floating, so happy, so _safe_. Bucky's head drops down, his forehead meeting Clint's gently, and he's saying something soft and sweet and low and Clint's not parsing it but he knows it's alright anyway, that Bucky doesn't mind, that he is held and beloved in this moment by this man who... he just met, really, whose last name he doesn't even—

No, it was Barnes, right? No problem then. Very well acquainted, obviously. 

And well. He is Clint's husband, after all.

======

"So, I know you wanted a distraction from the whole magic thing," manages Bucky in a strained voice a little later, breathing heavily as he pulls out of Clint and sets to tying the condom off. He's gentle, but they both twitch a little at the movement, oversensitive in all the best ways. 

"Mmm," replies Clint vaguely. Clint is relaxed. Clint is chill. Clint is not un-vagueing until the last possible second, thank you very much, because this—

"But this?" Bucky taps his fingers on the pillow next to Clint's face a couple times until his blissed out eyes sleepily blink open, on to... 

Oh. Oh fuck.

"This is kind of what I was talking about."

Bucky's face is visible, but not much else is; purple glitter is shining all around him, them, everything. Purple glitter, oh god, the demon, with the fingerpainting, and—

"Hey, hey!" Bucky's hands frame Clint's face and he stares into Clint's eyes, taking deep even breaths loudly enough that it's obviously a pointed hint to Clint to maybe also consider breathing deeply, or at all, or to stop— "Clint. Clint, honey. Stay with me. You're safe."

"But the... is the..."

"No demon. I'm here this time, and—" Bucky laughs and looks down. "I may be a chemistry professor, but—" He closes his eyes and breathes in again, deep and slow, and when he opens them, his pale grey eyes are sparkling in a deep green flecked with gold. "—but I know a thing or two about magic, too."

Clint doesn't quite calm down. He is no longer chill, his chill is AWOL, and his chill is increasingly unlikely to turn up in the lost and found. But he slows down a bit and he—he tries. "I... what do I do? Did I do this?"

"'Fraid so. You're gonna need to undo it too. But I can help."

"Can you—" Clint fumbles, not even sure what to ask. "Fuck. Can you drive?"

Bucky laughs.

Clint reddens. "You know what I mean!"

"Hey, hey, yeah. I know. I just. God, somewhere all my relatives are laughing their asses off at me. I kind of burned some bridges when I went in for chemistry and walked out on the family coven, you know?"

Clint squinches up his eyes, trying to imagine having family you could walk away from. That it was safe to turn your back on, even. "I... really, really don't?"

"Okay, well, let's just say there aren't a lot of PhDs in the family despite the number of people who wear robes. And yes. I can drive. If you... Do you trust me?" Bucky is looking at him again with those big earnest eyes, and they're still all sparkly and powerful, but—

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." breathes Clint, and it's true, somehow. In this whole deeply improbable night, Bucky has been the warm, beating, impossible heart, sustaining Clint and making him believe in safety, in not being totally screwed over, in being seen and valued. Yeah. Yeah, Clint trusts him.

"All right. I'm going to guide you through this, but then after? We are going to have to talk about getting you some lessons."

Clint sighs. "Yeah, that's... probably a thing."

"All right. This is going to feel weird. Just hold still, 'kay? I'm with you even if it feels like I'm not."

Clint is pretty tuckered out, after all of the... everything today, not to mention the fairly mind-blowing sex he just had. He's not sure what to make of the with-you-but-not part, but holding still: Clint is up for that. He nods, and Bucky melts through him.

WHAT THE SHIT.

But before Clint can even get organized to flinch, it's over; the purple stuff is gone, a low humming noise that Clint hadn't even registered until it was gone stops dead, and in the silence Bucky seems to reappear, slowly and sort of... silkily? phasing back into place above Clint, the comforting weight on his chest and thighs settling back over him, the green and gold sparkling in his eyes fading back to grey. He places a small, sweet kiss on Clint's forehead and wrangles them sideways, limbs tangling together, and tucks Clint's head against his chest. Clint can hear the steady beat of Bucky's heart and it's good, so good. He's sticky and exhausted and apparently turns the world purple when he comes now, but he lets that heartbeat lull him off to sleep and even kind of trusts that Future Clint will be able to figure out what to do next.

=====

The semester carries on, the ancient rhythms of academia grinding along the way they have, but where Clint usually lets it wash over him, familiar and comforting after 11 years, he now feels wildly out of place. He's seen something deeper and older than the most venerable cornerstone on the oldest building on campus, sparklier than the letters on the booty shorts of the cheerleading squad, and more unsettling than a forgotten midterm. The classic Clint move would be to deny it and try to act like it never happened, but a bigger part of him is too busy flicking his eyes back and forth, vigilant for any sign of purple glitter, freaking out a bit when he walks past a knot of smokers. 

He keeps going to class, needs to keep a certain GPA for his current scholarship, and he crams on autopilot, churning out assignments with no real memory of what he's handing in. And he keeps getting As anyway, and for the first time wonders if maybe there's something hinky about that, if a circus freak foster kid dropout should have been able to keep up an honour roll average, not just now that he's had a decade of practice at it, but from day 1, when he did all his work on library computers, trading blow-jobs to closeted rich kids for lessons in how to use a word processor and other shit he'd never had exposure to in his life. Whether a kid with a forged GED should have been able to make the grade. Whether it was likely, at all, that a poor kid with a forged GED would actually ever have been admitted to this poncy school in the first place. 

Whether his charmed life was maybe actually... charmed?

He's walking out of a midterm, mulling this over, and stumbles as he realizes he's not real sure _what course that exam was even for_. Before he can tuck into a proper fall—something he's been a master of since long before he made varsity gymnastics—a pair of big warm hands are gripping his arms, supporting him back upright. Hands attached to arms attached to an amused grin and oh, it's Bucky.

"Oh uh. Hi."

"Lost in thought?"

Clint sighs. "You could say that."

Bucky clucks in faux-sympathy. "Were you worrying about, oh, ghosting your temporary husband to avoid having to admit you need magic lessons?"

And uh. Shit. Clint winces. "No...? But um. I... probably should have been?" 

Bucky sighs, still looking amused seemingly in spite of himself. "Clint, I know you don't want to do this, but..."

Clint nudges Bucky's knee and leads him over to an alcove out of the flow of post-exam traffic. "...but you've thought it over and now I don't have to? Great!" Clint wants to walk away at this point, but his feet seem to realize that this discussion is happening whether they waste the effort or not; he stays put.

Bucky frowns. "Is it... is it because it's me? I could maybe find you someone else. I know it must be awkward, after... I mean the magic makes people do... things they maybe wouldn't normally do, and if you... uh." His face is completely red now, and oh. Clint forgot how adorable the man was in his singleminded desire to avoid eye-contact with the whole agic-may ubject-say. 

Bucky is staring at him as the silence drags on. Oh. Uh. Clint should—Clint should say something, but he's frozen, and—Bucky's face falls and he nods sadly to himself. "Look, I'll call... uh you won't want an aunt. One of my cousins? I'll see who can... you won't have t—"

"Nnnn!" Clint says, articulately.

"Uh... nnn?" repeats Bucky.

Clint gives up on finding the perfect thing or the imperfect thing or even a grammatical English thing to say and just kisses Bucky, firm and artless and a little desperate. Bucky stiffens against this, and Clint draws back. Fuck, fuck did he— 

Bucky blinks, looking a little stunned. "So it wasn't that you don't want to..."

Clint shakes his head.

Bucky blows out a heavy breath. "Oh thank god. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I—"

Clint is back in his scope of practice now and leans in to interrupt Bucky with a slower, smoother kiss, and this time Bucky melts into it, his sweet warm hands brushing up Clint's biceps, squeezing them a little. Clint shivers. What, a man can't be proud of his assets? 

Bucky eventually breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Clint's. "We still have to do the magic stuff. Bad, bad shit will happen if we ignore it." 

Clint makes an embarrassing whining noise at this, then slaps a hand over his mouth. Come on, Barton, you can do this, man up, man up, man overboard oh fuck MAGIC, Clint can't... he...

Bucky grips him more firmly. "Clint! With me, buddy?" With difficulty, Clint focuses his eyes on Bucky and nods mutely. "Okay, good. That's good. Look, why don't you come back to my place, we can snuggle up on the couch, and just talk it over? I have cookies."

Clint should not find the cookies such a powerful part of the draw of that sentence, but fuck it, if it takes cookies for him to act like an adult, then... uh... 

"Clint?"

Clint grins lopsidedly. "Sorry. I'm kind of distractible. And uh," he trails off, then lick's Bucky's forehead. "You're pretty distracting?"

Bucky looks at him flatly just as a loud set of giggles break out nearby. Bucky and Clint look over to the source and find three comely young students that Clint is pretty sure he recognizes from one of the sorority houses near his place. "Hi Professor Barnes!" one chirps, waving.

Bucky sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hello Cassidy. Bridget. And..."

"I'm Mackenzie!" volunteers the last one. "I'm not in your class!"

"Mackenzie. Nice to meet you. Cassidy, Bridget, office hours are tomorrow at 2. If you need something I can talk to you then."

More giggles. "Oh, no, we just wanted to say hi!" explains Cassidy. "And find out who you're... tutoring here!" blurts out Bridget, looking hungrily at Clint. Clint's not sure if she wants to eat him or just get juicy professor gossip or maybe both, but yikes, he is getting stares worthy of a piranha in triplicate.

Bucky clears his throat. "This is my husband, Mr. Barnes. Clint, these are some of my students."

"And me! I'm not his student," adds Mackenzie, as Bridget and Cassidy mouth HUSBAND?! and goggle a bit.

"My students and their little friend. Who are no doubt on their way to the library to study for Monday's midterm."

The girls stare. Bucky raises an eyebrow. Clint pulls a quarter out of Bucky's other eyebrow. Bucky cracks up.

"Well! See you in office hours, I'm sure," Bucky manages and hustles Clint down the hall and away from the sorority trap.

"Where do you get all those quarters from, anyway?" he mutters. 

Clint grins. "I just have one. But I'm also a good pickpocket." He hands Bucky back his wallet.

Bucky looks at it, face warring between laughter and irritation. "You little shit!"

"Is that any way to talk to your husband?"

Bucky gives in to laughter and shakes his head, tugging Clint along as he resumes walking.

"I still get cookies, right?"

=====

Clint is six cookies deep when Bucky clears his throat. "MMphh?" 

"Clint. We need to talk."

Clint swallows and pats the box of cookies sadly. "I'll see you later, guys," he stage-whispers. He turns brightly to Bucky. "Or... we could make out?"

Bucky sighs. "I'd love to, but no. Magic first."

Clint slumps.

"Oh Clint, I promise you it's not that scary. It's actually pretty easy to avoid summoning demons who want to consume your soul." Bucky pauses. "Okay I guess phrasing it that way it's a little scary."

Clint rolls his eyes. "I'm not scared, just. Well, okay, I'm scared. But I mean. I'm scared I'll be bad at it? I'm not really... you know..." he waves a hand in the air and trails off.

"Not really...?"

Clint hmphs. "Like. I don't know if you've noticed, but I am kind of... distractible? I don't know if I can... like... meditate."

"Meditate?" Bucky looks genuinely puzzled.

Clint peers at him. "Is that not..."

Bucky laughs. "Oh my god, no, no meditating. Can you imagine—" he chokes a little and has to pause to catch his breath. "Clint, magic powers appear when you're a teenager. Can you imagine how many demons would be walking the earth if it depended on teenagers being able to meditate serenely to keep them out?"

Clint is a bit taken aback by this. "Huh. Yeah I guess... but I'm not a teenager! How come I'm getting magic puberty?"

"You're probably not," says Bucky gently. "Looking back, isn't there anything a little... strange that happened to you when you were growing up? Something you couldn't explain?"

Clint bristles. "Well I grew up in the circus, so... pretty much everything was strange?"

"The circus, right, you said. Huh. That explains a lot."

Clint pulls his quarter out of Bucky's ear again. Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Sorry! Sorry, bad habit."

"Were your parents in the circus?"

Clint clouds over. "No. They're dead."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's... not really a tragedy. Dad was kind of a piece of work. He broke more of my bones than I ever did learning trapeze. And mom... I miss mom, but she didn't really..."

"Try to stop him?"

Clint nods. "I mean I know it's more complicated than that, but... I was a little kid, you know? It shouldn't have been."

Bucky gathers him up in a loose hug and Clint goes all in, hopping on Bucky's lap and tucking his head under Bucky's chin. Bucky laughs softly. "You are such a cuddler."

"Not my fault you're a super hot stick guy."

"So how did you end up at the circus?"

"Well, first we were—my brother Barney and me—we were in foster homes. A lot of foster homes. Barney was kind of a handful, and I'm halfway deaf," Clint gestures vaguely at his ear and it's a testament to how distracting Clint's everything is that Bucky is only just noticing the bright purple hearing aid now. "...so we weren't exactly anyone's dream kids, you know?"

"Clint..."

Clint shrugs, snuggling closer. "It's whatever. Anyway. After a couple years Barney got this plan to get us out. And it's... it was this whole thing, but anyway, we ran away to the circus. At first we were just labourers, but after the first year I had my own act, and we saved enough to pay off a trailer, and... yeah. The circus."

"Your brother still in the circus?"

"No, no, he's in jail."

"Oh."

"He murdered a guy he was trying to rob and then shot me and left me for dead because I didn't want to murder anyone."

Bucky's mouth works silently as he gapes down at Clint.

"Sooooooo," drawls Clint, "isn't family awkward?"

"You know, I'm suddenly feeling like mine is a lot more normal than I thought?" manages Bucky. Clint snorts. "So what was your act in the circus?"

"I was the amazing Hawkeye! Master of bow and arrow! He never misses!" Clint perks up, delivering the spiel in a chirpy showman's voice on autopilot. "I did all kinds of trick shooting, shooting blindfolded, through flaming hoops, standing on a galloping horse, hitting the bullseye and then splitting the arrow in the bullseye with another arrow, all kinds of Robin Hood shit."

"You must have done a lot of archery when you were little?"

"Uh, no, I picked it up at the circus. It just kind of... came naturally to me."

Bucky schools his expression. "In a year. It came naturally enough to be a professional trick-shooter in a circus after one year of practice in your spare time."

Clint sits up, frowning at Bucky. "What are you saying."

"Clint. You don't think it's a little bit unusual that you got so good so fast?"

"I had to! You make money for the circus or you leave the circus, that's just—"

"Did you ever miss, even in the beginning?"

"I... maybe?" Clint thinks back, slumps heavily against Bucky. "No? I don't think so?"

"Did you ever maybe see sparkles when you were practicing?"

"Well yeah, I had a whole sequinned outfit, it was the CIRCUS, Bucky."

"Purple sparkles?"

"...Maybe."

"Mmm."

"Mmm? What does mmm mean."

"Mmm."

"I'm just naturally good at aim! Look, I'll show you." Clint takes his quarter and flicks it up in the air without looking. It falls back down, hitting him in the nose.

"Uh... were you trying to..."

Clint is close to tears. "That never... it was supposed to bounce off the lamp, the wall, and the table and land on its edge on the cookie box. I never... I've never missed like that before."

"Hey, hey." Bucky crushes Clint against his chest. "I believe you."

"Oh my god, why would you, that just sounds... I must sound like the world's biggest liar, I—"

"I believe you," Bucky repeats firmly. "Because we're in my living room, and my house is warded against magic."

"What are you saying?"

Bucky picks the quarter up and presses it back in Clint's hand. His eyes momentarily flicker with that green/gold light and then drift back to grey. "Try it now."

Clint sniffles and tosses the quarter over his shoulder. It bounces off four surfaces and lands, on edge, on the cookie box, spinning like a top. Clint breathes out a relieved sigh.

Bucky's eyes flash again. "Now try it again."

Clint tosses the quarter. It bounces off a bookshelf and falls to the ground somewhere. 

"Shit."

"It's bec—" 

"Because you unblocked the magic, then blocked it again, yeah, yeah I get it, I just. Shit." Tears are streaming freely down Clint's face now. "It's just a lot to... I... This is the only thing that was mine. The only thing that was just me, the only thing I could do right, and now it's... It turns out I was cheating the whole—"

"CLINT." Bucky grips him by the shoulders. "You weren't cheating. It was just a different rare, special skill than you thought it was."

This brings Clint up short. "I... huh."

"I have a huge family full of witches," Bucky says softly. "And maybe 1 or 2 out of the hundred plus fully-seasoned cousins and in-laws and great-great-aunties I've met are as powerful as you are, by yourself, without any formal training."

Clint swivels his head around to gape at Bucky. Bucky nods gently, brushing Clint's head back from his forehead as he does. "You're still a weirdo special snowflake with freakishly good aim, honey."

Clint breathes out heavily, some weight lifting from his heart at this reassurance.

"Hey, Bucky?"

"Mm?"

"That 1 or 2 out of a hundred relatives who are this powerful. Are you one of them?"

Bucky's turn to sigh. "...yeah. I am."

"That why you uh, don't want your aunts to show up?"

"Honestly, no. My little sister is almost as powerful as I am, and she took on the family... legacy I guess? She's the official next big bad Barnes, and once that happened everyone chilled out a lot about me ditching witching to be fab in the lab."

Clint snickers. "You been saving that one for a while, huh."

Bucky preens. "Damn straight."

"Dork."

Bucky blows a raspberry in Clint's hair and continues. "So no, I'm not worried they'll show up and try to drag me back to work in the family biz, not any more at least. I'm worried they'll show up and say MY HOW YOU'VE GROWN, BUCKMINSTER, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO MEET A NICE COVEN GIRL AND SETTLE DOWN AND GIVE US SOME GRANDNIECES." This last comes out in a creaky old-lady voice clearly born of long experience. "Probably in front of the dean, they love an audience."

Clint beams. "Oh, then I can help!"

"Hm?"

"Well," Clint offers shyly. "You're married now, right? That's gotta be good for a few years of auntie satisfaction."

"Oh Clint, I'm not going to hold you to that. Like I said, there's a ritual we can—"

Clint cuts him off by covering his mouth with one hand. "What if I don't want that? What if. Bucky. What if we." Clint falters for a moment, then blurts out: "Can I keep you?"

Bucky's mouth falls open, incidentally covering Clint's hand in drool. Clint wipes his hand off on his pants. Bucky picks the hand up and kisses Clint's palm, still looking a little pole-axed. "You'd... you'd want that?"

Clint hunches in his shoulders. "I mean... yes? I know we only just... I mean you probably can do way better than me, I should... I won't um. I won't fight it if you want to. But. But yeah. If you want to know what I want." He looks up, meeting Bucky's eyes. "I want you."

Bucky leans in and kisses Clint, chaste and sweet and long. Eventually they break for air and Bucky leans his forehead against Clint's. "For real, or as a way to distract me from your mandatory magic lessons?"

Clint grins. "90% for real, 10% distraction."

Bucky frames Clint's face with his hands. "Clint Barton, I would 90% be honoured to be your husband for as long as you'll have me."

Clint beams. "Ninety percent is an A! Close enough."

"...and I will 100% still be teaching you magic control, distraction or no."

"Aw magic no."

=====

Magic lessons turn out not to be so bad. First of all, there's a lot more kissing than Clint had been expecting; Bucky's objection to being distracted seems to have been pretty disingenuous. Second of all, it's mostly him showing off his archery skills, and that's definitely in his comfort zone. Bucky takes him to an archery range and stands behind him, hands on his shoulders in a gentle grip, and tells him to start shooting, as fancy as possible. Clint is hella down with this; with all the magic panic and then midterms and crew practice it's been ages since he had some range time. He starts out with a few tight clusters of bullseyes, then starts shooting without looking, drawing goofy pictures on the target, splitting arrows, shooting 3 or 4 arrows at once in cute patterns... every 40 shots they take a smooch break when he gets back from retrieving his shot arrows, then Bucky takes up position at Clint's back again. After... Clint's not even sure how long, he's been in the zone. After a good long while, Bucky lets go of his shoulders, dusts his hands off on his jeans, and announces "Okay, we're done."

"Yeah?" Clint shoots his final five arrows all at once, just to be a smart-ass. 

"Yep! Congratulations."

"Congratu... what?"

"Summon a fairy light that changes from orange to blue and back every ten seconds."

Clint makes a complicated pass with his hands and a light appears between them, phasing from blue and orange and back again. It looks like a miniature neon sign saying EAT AT JOE'S. A tiny spark shaped like a fly is buzzing around the sign.

"Heh. Nice touch," remarks Bucky.

Clint goggles at it for a minute, then does... a thing... with his hands that dismisses the light and looks up at Bucky. "How the fuck did I do that?"

"I calibrated you."

"That makes me sound like... an engine part?"

"Maybe more like tuning a piano?"

Clint looks at him flatly, eyebrows succinctly expressing "Okay but what the fuck," and Bucky cracks up.

"Usually this takes a couple dozen sessions with new witches, and it's this whole weird summer camp with aunties everywhere and so many awkward teenagers. But you're not a teenager."

"Yeah, thank god."

Bucky pauses for a minute. "Yeah, shit, you could not pay me to be 15 again."

Clint holds up a fist and Bucky bumps it.

"Anyway, yeah, you're fully grown into your powers, and you already know how to channel them pretty exactly, or your archery wouldn't work. You must have basically learned control just on intuition while you were a kid, which is amazing, and also very lucky for you because otherwise you would probably have levelled a city block and died a horrible flaming death."

"WHAT THE FUCK."

"But you didn't!"

"Yeah I... would probably have remembered that? Jesus Christ, a city block."

"So, all I had to do was tag along while you did spellwork and set some boundaries. I sort of fenced in your magic, or more like, drew some channels in the sand for it to flow along."

"Huh."

"What I did will gradually fade, but in the meantime I'll get you to go through the basic magical canon on purpose so that by the time the guidelines are gone, you'll have your own homemade rubric in place, and then you can go nuts making up your own spells without summoning anyone purple."

"Or levelling a city block."

"Or that," agrees Bucky.

"Huh. That was... a lot easier than I thought it was gonna be."

Bucky smiles. "I told you it wasn't gonna be meditation." 

"So um." Clint looks up at the ceiling and scratches his head. "Is it normal that I feel kind of..."

"Incredibly horny?"

"Oh thank god."

"Yeah, that's kind of a thing. We're um. We're going to want to cuddle a LOT in the next few weeks. Magic's kind of... stimulating like that."

Clint's eyes light up. "Please take me home immediately so we can study magic naked."

Bucky does.

=====

Bucky is two fingers deep in Clint when the urge to be a little shit becomes overwhelming and he pauses, waits for Clint to whine inquisitively, and says "Now practice levitating."

Clint sputters. Bucky cackles. Clint's brain catches up a moment later. "Wait, that's a THING? That I can do?"

Bucky laughs merrily. "Try it and see, sugar."

Clint looks suspiciously at Bucky, as if trying to decide whether to risk looking foolish, then visibly decides that if you can't look silly while your husband is wearing your asshole like a ring, when can you? He gets an absent look on his face, then frowns. 

"You're overthinking it, sweetheart," Bucky says gently. "I promise you can do it, I wasn't teasing."

"Yes you were."

"Okay yes I was, but you can float, that part is real. Just... let yourself do it."

Bucky strokes a finger slowly along Clint's prostate and Clint shivers, and this is apparently just the right amount of relaxation, because a moment later he floats slowly off the bed, Bucky letting his fingers, still nestled inside Clint's entrance, follow him up, feeling absurdly like the string on a kite. A sexy, sexy kite. Oh god, Bucky, focus. 

Clint laughs brightly, then punches a fist in the air triumphantly. "Fuck yeah levitating!"

"Told ya!" says Bucky, pride colouring his voice.

"BUCKY," breathes Clint suddenly, rocking against Bucky's hand. "THIS IS LIKE, A MAGICAL SEX SWING."

Bucky snorts. "Oh my god, Clint, y—"

"Because I am a SEX WIZARD. You married a SEX WIZARD, Bucky."

Bucky wrinkles his nose. "Witch. Wizards aren't real."

Clint absorbs this remark solemnly and gives Bucky a Look.

Bucky tries to stay cool, but cracks up after a few seconds. "Okay, okay, that did sound pretty ridiculous." 

Clint nods smugly, then clenches around Bucky's fingers and ohhhh hey, yeah. Bucky scrambles with his free hand to find the bottle of lube and slicks up a third finger.

"And after like, practice month, I can make my own spells, right?" says Clint breathily, little gasps punctuating his words as Bucky works another finger in. Bucky's trying to remember instructions from a website about anal sex that suggested tickling the inner muscle to get it to... hah! To relax, it works, Bucky is a sex wizard too, booyah!

"...right?" repeats Clint.

"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, yeah once your magic is flying solo you can start to freestyle. It's nice, spells you make yourself always come easier. Actually you probably have already made quite a few without realizing, I think the way you work your arrowmancy is—"

"ARROWMANCY! Oh my god I'm an arrowmancer. Or arrowmantic? Hahaha, get it, like aromantic, only—"

"I get it," says Bucky, rolling his eyes.

"Oh come on, Mr. Bad Chemistry Jokes, cut me some slack here."

"That's _Professor_ Bad Chemistry Jokes to you, bub."

Clint gazes heatedly up at Bucky. "I think you mean Beloved Husband Bad Chemistry Jokes."

Bucky gulps. "Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah, I do."

Clint leans awkwardly over to kiss Bucky sweetly, then exclaims "Wait, hah!" and Bucky begins to float too.

"Sex. Wizard," Clint announces, one eyebrow raised, daring Bucky to say again that wizards aren't real.

"Yep. Sex wizard. You are a sex wizard. The finest sex wizard in all the land." Bucky knows when he's beat.

"Oh! So spells! Know what my first spell will be?" Clint waggles his butt, dislodging Bucky's fingers, and Bucky loses the plot for a moment, watching lube drip out of Clint's hole, which is clenching hungrily on nothing.

"...is it magic lube," says Bucky, not really asking. It's definitely magic lube.

"MAGIC LUBE!" agrees Clint happily. "But for now get some real lube on your dick and get IN HERE, I haven't been this worked up since I was fourteen and got my first gay porno mag. This magic shit is LEGIT."

Bucky doesn't need to be told twice. He coats his cock generously in non-magical lube and lines himself up, complicated slightly by how Clint keeps floating away. Bucky is regretting a little bit mixing magic lessons into the sex. Only a little bit, though. He is dedicated to his craft as a Dorky Jerkface.

"Hah! You _are_ a dorky jerkface!" says Clint, then moans as Bucky finally coordinates their motion enough to slide inside him. "Wait, you didn't say that out loud, did you."

"Nnnngh," says Bucky out loud. "Remember how I could hear your thoughts during the whole demon thing?" he thinks loudly. "It goes both ways. Now that you're attuned to your magic you can hear me, is all."

Clint's eyes widen, then he turns bright red. Bucky laughs. "Just when we're doing very intense magic," Bucky promises. "Your embarrassing thoughts are safe from me most of the time." Bucky presses a kiss to Clint's knee and adjusts his grip on his hips, starting to thrust lazily as they spin slowly in the air over the bed. Okay maybe mixing sex and magic practice _was_ a good idea, this is amazing.

"I'm not afraid I'll think something embarrassing," says Clint. "Usually I say my embarrassing thoughts out loud anyway." Bucky giggles. 

"I'm afraid I'll think about how I love you, and it's too soon to say that but—no, no, stop stop stop, think about elephants, think about—" Clint thinks.

Bucky groans and presses in fully, pulling Clint in tight against his chest, one hand threading in his hair and pressing Clint's head to Bucky's heart. "You don't have to be afraid of that," he whispers. "I love you too."

"Oh...!" Clint chokes out, torn between shock and shame and joy at having his heart eavesdropped on, at being known so deeply so soon, too soon, right? This is too soon?

"Magic makes everything more intense," Bucky murmurs. "Everything about the two of us is weird. Let go of trying to make us normal. You can be my sex wizard husband I met two weeks ago but already want to keep forever."

"Bucky..."

"Clint."

"I..."

"I know, honey. I love you too, so much."

"Thanks, but I was going to say, can you fucking start moving before my balls explode?"

Bucky loses it, lets out a huge belly laugh and almost pulls himself out of Clint's ass by accident before righting himself and moving smoothly, well, sort of smoothly, into a thrust, then another, working up to a rough rhythm to match the fierce beating of his heart, of Clint's heart, of their hearts intertwined, their bodies intertwined, their magic intertwined, and it's so, so good, so sweet, so light...

Purple sparkles begin to rise in the air around them, and golden-green sparkles join them. Clint is looking at the air in wonder. "Is this... do I need to..."

"No," gasps Bucky. "No this is fine. It's good. It's..." God, it's everything.

"I heard that," mouths Clint on his way to kiss Bucky, his tongue sneaking into Bucky's mouth, even as... oh, oh, oh, Bucky is so close to—

"Holy shit," thinks Clint, and his cock twitches between their bodies, then he's coming, hot spend a sweet island of warmth against Bucky's belly, and oh, oh, Bucky's coming too, Clint clenching around his cock and oh, oh, oh yes, yes, YES.

He's not really clear on how they get back down on to the bed, but his next clear thought finds him lying on the covers, back under gravity's sway, with Clint tucked firmly into his armpit, nuzzling into his chest, already starting to sweetly drift off.

There is so much they don't know about each other yet, everything about this is so new, and yet... Bucky is certain, in this moment, that he knows all the most important things. Clint is something bright and silly and brash and timid and loyal and _good_ , a shining presence Bucky can feel inside his heart, and he clutches it to himself like the precious treasure it is. 

Clint murmurs "Sex. Wizard," tapping a finger on Bucky's chest with each syllable for emphasis. He's snoring before Bucky can respond. 

Bucky presses a kiss to his scalp and answers anyway. "Sex _witch_ ," he corrects, and... wow. He's spent so many years trying to forget about witchcraft, running as far and as fast as possible toward science and mundanity and everything magic isn't. What a strange revelation, to find that being a witch was the thing that would make his life complete, would bring this ridiculous gift of a man to his home, his bed, his heart.

Apparently magic sex make him a bit maudlin. Eh, worth it.

"Sex witch _husband_ ," he amends, and lets himself drift off too, sticky and sweaty and complete.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Bucky just had caffeine molecule boxer shorts but I changed it once I saw the draft of the amazeballs art. OMG THAT IS HOT HE HAS A TATTOO NOW IT'S CANON I SAY SO. <3 A pleasure to work with you, Mado, thank you for bringing my disaster!magic!gays to life!


End file.
